


Hay Fever (Hay!)

by dramady, edonyx



Category: Adam Lambert - Fandom, American Idol RPF, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-13
Updated: 2010-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Tommy's allergic to some flowers in Mexico, in a completely different way.</p><p><b>Authors' Notes:</b> Kink - Sex Pollen, couldn't resist! Part of a pair with <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/61996">Brassidy Sex Pollen Porn</a></p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hay Fever (Hay!)

Tommy starts sneezing on the plane back from Mexico, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow so he doesn't totally spray grody germs all over Adam and Sutan. There had been hundreds of plants he'd never seen before, and it's probably given him some kind of tropical hay fever. Fan-fucking-tastic. At least it's at the end of their trip instead of the beginning. Holy shit, they'd had a good time, snorkeling and whale-watching, just lying out on the boat, partying and just _chilling out._ No twitter, no phones, only one quick visit to a computer.

Except, an hour after he starts sneezing, Tommy starts to feel feverish, too, itchy, like his blood's too hot, or his skin's suddenly shrank about three sizes. "Fuck," he mutters, unfastening his belt. "Shove over, I gotta go to the can."

"How _are_ you so classy," Adam grins as he holds his magazine closer to his nose and swings his legs to the side so that Tommy can get by, looking up as he passes by. "Are you all right?" He asks, real concern creeping into his tone.

"I feel really weird," Tommy answers, holding up a hand that says _don't ask 'cause I don't know._ In the bathroom, he takes his leak, no big deal, except when he tucks himself back in his shorts, the feel of fabric against skin has him shivering. Really? _Really?_ He's got a hard-on just from that? Either he can ignore it and it'll go away, or hey, he's in the bathroom as it is...

Tommy keeps his mouth pressed against his shoulder as he jerks off in quick, hard strokes, eyes squeezed shut as he uses every single bit of willpower not to make sound. He knows how thin airplane bathroom doors are, and that's why Mile High clubs are just another form of exhibitionism, right? Fuck, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, and when he comes, he has to brace his hand against the wall to keep his knees from giving out under him. Except... it's not going away. Not the heat of _want_ or his erection, but it's not like he can stay in the bathroom for the rest of the flight trying to figure out what's got him so hot and bothered. He thinks unsexy thoughts. He thinks about his mom. He thinks about Lisa - his sister, not the keyboardist, who's hot in her own right - but when he thinks about Adam, who's his buddy, his cock twitches against his fingers, and Tommy starts again. _Adam-Adam-Adam-Adam,_ and this time he lets out something that's a guy's version of a squeak when he comes. Again. Thinking about _Adam_, the singer for his band. That's just... not right.

Sitting down in his seat again, Tommy looks flushed and a little sweaty, hair mussed from running his hand through it (he washed his hands, no Something About Mary for Tommy!), and he immediately plugs into his iPod instead of talking to Adam. Fuck. He can smell Adam's cologne or body wash or some shit, and he keeps his knees apart, first to accomodate what's going on in his jeans, and also to try and make it not quite as noticeable. Double-fuck.

He gets no immediate peace, though. Because Adam is jostling his elbow with his own before pulling out an earbud with his finger. "Are you okay? You were, like, in there for a long time. Are you sick? We've got another hour or something, in the flight."

Tommy would say something like Triple-Fuck, except his fuck-o-meter just went from yellow into red, and he stands up again. "No, man. I feel... Just." There's that raise of his hand again, and he's gotta make _another_ trip to the bathroom. Adam's fingers had grazed the side of Tommy's face, and it's as if it brought up that fever again.

He visits the bathroom four more times before the seatbelt light comes on to tell the passengers they're on their descent, and by this point, Tommy's edgy and irritable, telling Adam at one point to leave him the fuck alone so he can listen to his music. He doesn't _mean_ it, though. He likes Adam, hell, the last few days in Mexico had been concrete proof of that, right? Adam doesn't get an apology until they're in the car to drop Adam off first, then Tommy, and even then, it comes out pinched and low. "I just don't feel good, okay? And I'm dying for a shower." He's fairly certain he at least _looks_ guilty, like he's been jerking off almost incessantly on a plane, and maybe a shower and a few beers (and smoking a bowl of high-grade Kush) will make him feel a little more... normal. "Look, I'll call you tomorrow. We'll get lunch or something. Okay?"

"Sure, baby. Are you really sure you're okay, though? You look all flushed and weird." Reaching up, unperturbed by the earlier snarkiness, Adam presses the inside of his wrist to Tommy's forehead. "We can call a doctor, if you want? It really sucks to come back from vacation and be sick. Was it something you ate?"

"No, it's not my stomach that's bugging me." Tommy has to ball his hands into fists to keep from either yanking Adam's skin away from his, or from taking his wrist and sucking up a hickey on it, or licking the tips of Adam's fingers. What the _fuck._ Yeah, Tommy had totally said that it was okay to touch, because he's gay-friendly like that, but it's never been much more than a lot (and Tommy means a _lot_) of talk. "If I'm not better by, like, next month, I'll call a doctor. It's probably just the change in pressure or something stupid like that." Looking at Adam's mouth, Tommy can't help but wet his own lips.

"Next month?! No way. If you're still sick when we get to New York, we're getting you a doctor." Pushing Tommy's hair back from his face, Adam bends down to catch his eye. "Do you want to come home with me? At least then we can call my mom?"

_Don't touch me,_ Tommy almost snaps, but Adam has no idea how Tommy feels, so there's no sense in being a douche about it. "Yeah," he agrees, instead. "I'll chill on your couch or something. I mean, it can't be as weird as sleeping in Monte's daughter's room." He finds he can laugh, and that's kind of a relief. "So much pink!" There's heat in Tommy's eyes though, and Adam's close enough that it'd be easy to take two handfuls of that black hair and haul him into a kiss.

"Pretty, pretty princess." Adam grins, leaning forward to kiss Tommy's forehead. "Okay, then we'll go to my place and you can rest there. It'll pass, whatever it is and you'll be fine." Poor baby feels so _hot_. Thankfully, whatever it is didn't seem to be something that Adam got. Thank God.

Tommy actually jerks forward when Adam kisses his forehead, meaning to try and catch that soft mouth against his. All he can think of is where else that mouth would feel good, or those hands, and he shrinks back against the seat. "Yeah," he answers, distracted. "Fine." Why aren't they there yet? Why isn't he in Adam's bathroom with his jeans around his knees? Why is he even going to Adam's in the first place? Fuck on a bun. With an extra helping of fuck. He's so hard that it hurts, pressed against the fly of his jeans.

It's only a few minutes more, actually, and they're in front of Adam's house and the driver is pulling the bags from the trunk. Adam hitches on his backpack and grabs the handle of his rollerbag as he heads to the door. "Home sweet home!" he sings, fishing out his keys. "God, that was the best weekend ever, wasn't it?" Then he's inside and keying off the alarm, leaving his bags to go to the kitchen. "I'm getting you some water and aspirin!" He calls behind him.

"I'll be in the bathroom!" Tommy calls back, leaving his bags with Adam's to all but run for the privacy of Adam's washroom. The door slams behind him and he leans against it, flinging open his fly and shoving his jeans and shorts down barely to the tops of his thighs before he's stroking himself again. Adam's mouth. His hands. He _knows_ what Adam can do, what Adam knows how to do, and when Tommy pictures Adam's mouth around his cock, he comes so hard that his teeth grind together.

It doesn't help. Tommy makes a weak noise and sinks to the floor, hitching his pants up as much as he can handle without wanting to do something stupid and girly, like _cry._ Because his dick is hard and it's not going away. Fuckin' Roxy probably put Viagra in Tommy's Coke on the plane, as a joke. Oh god, that woman's in trouble.

"Tommy?" Adam calls from the other side of the door. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm almost thinking I need to call an ambulance or something! What's wrong?! I have water for you and stuff. You're freaking me out, okay? Talk to me!"

"I'm _fine!_" Tommy barks, pressing the heel of his clean hand to an eye. Oh god, what the fuck is he going to do? It's not as if he can go out there and jump on Adam, right? And even the sound of Adam's voice brings up heat like a fucking _fever_, making Tommy slouch out so he can take a deep breath and start jerking off. Again. Tommy stifles his sounds by jamming the web between his thumb and his index finger between his teeth, but his breath still pants out, quick and hard, through his nose.

"Tommy? Honestly, is this some kind of weird ... I mean, I don't even know what's going on." Tommy can hear Adam lean against the door. "Are you sure you're okay? You pretty much don't sound okay."

Tommy pull his hand from his mouth and balls it into a fist so he can at least try and talk to Adam. But his head thumps back against the door and what comes out of his mouth isn't words, but open sounds, instead, because he can't _help_ it. Once he's done - for now - Tommy washes his hands and pulls the door open a crack. "Do you have any really, really cold water?" To drink, obviously, but for half a second, Tommy entertains the thought of sticking his dick in it instead, to see if _that'll_ help.

So, okay, the smell of sex? Kind of hard to miss. And the hall bathroom? Tiny, so. Adam kind of stares at Tommy through the cracked door. "Yeah," he finally says. "Sure." And he gives his bassist one more look and goes to the kitchen to load up the glass with ice and water and bring it back, holding it out. "... Tommy?"

"I feel like I'm on fire," Tommy answers, taking the water and just looking at it, thinking again that it might not be a bad idea to flash freeze his junk. "I'm just..." He pulls the door open all the way, and Adam honestly looks nothing short of fucking delicious. There's tension in every muscle, in every line of Tommy's body, but there's pain there, too. Hi, he's jerked off _so much_ that he's certain his dick's going to be chapped later. Tommy can't bring himself to care, right now. The glass is set down and Tommy's on the move, on the _prowl_, taking two handfuls of Adam's shirt to yank him down into a kiss.

Oh.

Well.

Okay.

Or not okay, but that seems to be the situation, anyway, and Adam is nothing if not quick on his feet. "Tommy?" He whispers when his mouth isn't being assaulted. "... don't barf in my mouth, okay?"

"I was never gonna puke," Tommy answers, his hand wrapped around the back of Adam's neck, like the AMA's in reverse. But instead of trying to explain what's going on, because Tommy himself isn't even sure, he rocks up against Adam's thigh, letting him _feel_ why Tommy's feverish, and why he's trying to get on Adam like he's in fucking heat, or something.

"What's going on with you?" Adam asks, and he's got his arms around Tommy's waist because, hello, it wouldn't do for Tommy to _fall_ down. And it's kind of funny how nicely Tommy's ass fits in his hand; yes, Adam notes this. It's worth noting. "Is that what you were doing in the bathroom?" he asks. His mouth feels bruised. "Just ... what, jerking off?"

Tommy nods, resting his forehead against Adam's shoulder, rubbing himself off against Adam in short, sharp bucks of his hips. "On the plane, too. I don't know what it is. I just- I started sneezing, and then. _Uhn._" He turns his head to mouth at the side of Adam's throat. "They had flowers _everywhere._ Stuff I'd- _uh-_ never seen before. I was checking them out. Just... _ah._ Just 'cause I'd never seen- _mmh._ 'em before. Oh fuck." Tommy's voice drops to a whisper, hot against Adam's ear. "Oh fuck I'm gonna come."

"Tommy, you're humping my _leg_, what?!" Adam has seen a _lot_ of things in his day. A lot. But he's never seen someone come from humping his leg. "Are you - " Oh.

Yeah, Tommy meant it. "Um," Adam says. "... better?"

His hands are still fisted in Adam's shirt, and Tommy makes a miserable little sound, shaking his head from side to side. No, he's not better. He's not even sure if he _can_ come again, but it's certainly what his body's demanding. His shorts don't even feel like they're gross or anything, and that's probably because he's nearing double-digits for times he's gotten off, and his poor balls are probably all in revolt. He can't _help_ it, though, and he kisses up under Adam's jaw again. "I don't know what's wrong with me." He pulls back, eyes heavy, mouth soft and plush from the force of kissing Adam. "Do you want to fuck? Seriously. Let's go upstairs and I want you to fuck me."

"Woah? Woah. Tommy." Adam kind of can't look more surprised, not even if he tried. "You're straight. You like pussy. You .. you don't know what you're saying."

Tommy looks up at Adam, jaw set, expression just this side of desperate. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I think about you fucking me and..." His eyes close for a second, as if he has to compose himself, and he tugs Adam close again. "God. I thought about you sucking me off, in the bathroom. And I came really hard. _Really_ hard." Tommy bares his teeth for a second in a silent growl, tipping his hips up again. "It just... it's not going away. And it's not just a boner. I _want._"

"What in the fuck was in those _flowers_?!" Adam asks, but it's rhetorical. He studies Tommy's face and sure, he's compromised, right? Tommy is clearly on something that he didn't mean to be on. But Tommy's also sexy as fuck; Adam won't lie about that. And he's begging.

"You're not going to freak out about this after," Adam declares as he starts pulling Tommy upstairs. "You're not going to regret or whatever. It is what it is and that's it, okay?"

"You think that's what it was?" Tommy asks. "The flowers? Allergic reaction? What the _fuck._" There's some rationale left in his tone, but it's being busily eaten up by the wildfire of _want_ he feels, and Adam's just making it worse. "No freaking. No regret. It is what it is. I just... think it'll help if I'm... if you fuck me. I want your cock in my ass, as soon as you can get it there." Again, he _sounds_ rational, but the words themselves, well, not so much. He stops Adam on the stairs to nip at his neck. "I don't think I've ever wanted _anything_ this bad."

"Jesus fucking Christ." It's like a cheesy porn movie, except that Tommy's cuter and more earnest. And sincere, too. Fuck. In the bedroom, Adam pulls Tommy to the bed and gets to the business of undressing him. He's seen Tommy naked before, of course, most recently in Mexico, but this is different. This is with _intent_ and Adam finds himself chewing on his lower lip.

"How do we do this? What do I have to do?" Tommy pulls at Adam's clothes, biting kisses at every bit of skin he can find. Sure, they flirt like _crazy_ normally, and whatever it is that's in his fucking sinuses and making every touch feel like fucking, pushes Tommy past the point of caring if it's fanservice, if it's friendly, if it's real. Because _this_ is real, and he _needs_ it. His cock is stiff and flushed against his hip, and he takes Adam's hand to guide his fingers around. It's different than his own hand and he _groans._

"Fuck," Adam notes. Because looking at Tommy's cock and touching it are entirely different things. It's a nice dick. "Um, if we're gonna fuck ... " That means guiding Tommy back toward the bed, one hand still jerking him off slowly. "I need you to lie back. I'll do the rest, okay?"

"Or- or like, Roxy put something in my Coke," Tommy breathes, hips hitching into Adam's hand until the backs of his legs hit the edge of Adam's bed. Then he falls back, moving so he's in the middle, still watching Adam's face with eyes that are dark and hungry. "Like Viagra or Cialis or one of those stupid drugs. Are you going to finger me? I..." He tips his head back, picturing it, and it makes his legs shift restlessly apart on the sheets. "I bet that'll feel really fucking good."

"Yeah, baby. I'll take care of you." And Adam can't even help it that it comes out all dark and breathy. Tommy in his bed naked is sexy as _fuck_. Before he undresses, Adam gets the lube and condoms out of the drawer and sets those at the ready, then he's pulling off his t-shirt and jeans, kicking off his socks and boots before he climbs on the bed. "Tell me if something doesn't feel right, okay?" And he leans down to kiss Tommy's neck as he rubs a hand under Tommy's balls.

"Fuck," Tommy hisses. "That feels fucking _good._" It doesn't hurt to know that Adam's into it, either, not that Tommy really had any doubt. He _knows_ he's exactly Adam's type, little and pretty, and at this point, he'd beg as loud as he could to have Adam balls-deep in him right this fucking _second._ Tommy's head falls back, a hand fisting in that soft black hair to pull Adam's mouth away from his neck so Tommy can kiss him, instead. "Hurry, okay? Just fuckin' hurry. I could... _nnh._ It feels like I could come from just this. Just your fucking hand."

Now, that's tempting, just to _see_. But Adam gets the lube instead and smears _a lot_ of it on his fingers and he puts that hand back and starts stroking, finger circling around Tommy's hole before pushing in, palm flush against Tommy's balls. "There, baby. There."

_Wham._ Tommy's orgasm hits him full-force with just the push of Adam's finger, and his back arches off the bed. There isn't much to _see_, just some clear slick that looks more like precome than anything else, but Adam can feel it, feel the clench and pulse of it around his finger and the jerk of Tommy's cock in his hand. "Oh _god oh god!_" He hitches a shuddering gasp of air and breathes, "_More._"

"Fuck," Adam breathes out, because that? Is sexy as shit. Even as Tommy's body is still spasming, he pushes a finger all the way in, fucking Tommy with it. Seize the day! Adam bends down further, teeth teasing at one of Tommy's nipples. Wow, this could turn out to be a _lot_ of fun.

Tommy whines out a sound that's long and abjectly sexual, arching up again, up into the tug of Adam's teeth and down onto his finger. "Hurry," he begs. "I wanna fuckin' ride you. I want, I want... I don't know wh- what I want but I _ want you._" His words are fast and breathy, skin patchy-pink, hair damp and fuzzy with sweat. This is a fever he can't just sweat out, and he puts a hand over Adam's to _push._ So Adam's fucking him with his finger.

"Easy, baby. We don't want you getting cut," Adam chides, but then he's rocking in two fingers, and three. "Okay. Okay," he soothes, leaning in to catch Tommy's mouth. "Gonna fuck you now, okay? Gonna fuck you."

Which means a condom and getting it on and Adam does that and then, since Tommy had expressed his wishes, he rolls to his back, pulling Tommy to him. "Do whatever you want, okay?"

There's something that might be a nod in there, and Tommy straddles Adam's hips, knowing what to do from having girlfriends do this with _him_. He pushes Adam's cock to the right angle and sinks back on it with a stuttered groan, and even before he's all the way down, he's coming again, back arched outward, chin tucked down between his collarbones, eyes closed, rolled back in his head. "Oh- fuck _me-_"

"Jesus," Adam pants, because Tommy is absurdly tight and even tighter then when he's coming. Can a dude die from coming too much? God. But Adam brackets Tommy's hips and lets him move as he sees fit. And Tommy's _gorgeous_.

Funny, that's what Tommy's starting to think, and there's nothing steady about his motions, arms trembling as he holds himself up over Adam, thighs shaking against Adam's hips, hair hanging in his face because he just can't _care._ He's fairly certain that if he comes agan, he'll die, but it'll be like, brain matter or something equally unrealistic and gross that comes out of him, because it feels like he's got _nothing_ left. Nothing but the sensation of Adam stretching him open, and when his hips settle down against Adam's, Tommy has to stop and try and breathe in hoarse gasps. The first grind of his hips matches the grind of his teeth, and when he lifts and comes down again, Adam can hear the noise Tommy's making in his chest, a hum that matches each exhale.

It's gorgeous and a little intimidating at the same time. Tommy looks entirely lost and that's sexy. But the way he shakes triggers Adam's caretaker mode, big time. "Shhhh," he whispers, a hand over Tommy's heart. "It's okay." But fuck, Tommy feels good. Hot and tight. Any other time and he'd be moving, taking charge. So hot.

Tommy's heart is hammering under Adam's palm, and he shakes his head to one side then the other, slow, tick-tock. It's not okay. He doesn't _know_ how to make it okay, aside from the overwhelming idea just to ride himself to fucking _glory_ on Adam. He takes Adam's hand and blinks his eyes open just enough to see, then drags his tongue against each fingertip, feeling the whorl of each print, before pulling it down to circle Tommy's cock. And then he comes. Again. It's with a sound that's little more than a closed-mouth keen, and Tommy leans forward to kiss Adam.

"Fuck," Adam breathes over Tommy's mouth. The hand that's not around his cock, Adam slides down Tommy's back, fingers digging into his ass, intentionally trying to slow the pace. "Is it getting better?" He gasps out. "Is it passing?"

Slower might just be worse than faster, because it doesn't feel like it's _enough_, like it's just making that itch worse. Tommy shakes his head again, making a sound that's as much apologetic as anything else, and straightens to _ride_ Adam. Fuck yes, that's _right_, that's the way to do it, and it's a good thing he'd liked to watch when he'd be in Adam's position, because he knows what to do. Except when he leans back just a little too much, Adam's cock skids over something inside him, making Tommy shout with blitzed pleasure when he comes. How many times, now? And how many more?

"Oh, my fucking _God_," Adam groans, his head falling back, eyes slamming shut. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warns, though even he realizes that it probably doesn't matter. Tommy is _amazing_. Worrisome, but amazing. Adam digs his heels into the bed and shoves up to meet Tommy's thrusts. "Coming - !"

"_Fuck!_" One of Tommy's hands lands on Adam's balls, palming them as Adam comes and Tommy falls in line behind him, coming once, then again, pleasure mixed with deep-etched anxiety. What if it _doesn't_ stop? He'll go insane, he's sure of it. And then Adam'll have to get a new bassist, and Tommy won't have a job because he'll be too busy in an asylum trying not to jerk himself to _death._ Seriously.

"Oh, shit." Whining, Adam digs his fingers into Tommy's hips, because there is such a thing as too much. He can't stop shuddering and shaking, which just has him thinking how much he'd kind of hate to be Tommy. "Can you get off me, baby? I ... give me a few minutes, okay?"

The problem is, the drag up when Tommy pulls off of Adam makes him come again, and for a second, he's on his hands and knees over Adam, shivering, before he can move, can fall to the side, muscles twitching, and it takes a second to realize he has enough brain cells left to say something. "I'm sorry," is what comes first, as rough as torn paper. Then, "You got anything that'll knock me out? Like Benadryl or something? Maybe... if... if I'm sleeping..." There's a faint shake to his head, that negative motion that says he doesn't know. Because who _would_ know what to do, right?

"I think so, okay? Just ... easy, baby. Easy." This is like some weird kind of badness. Adam urges Tommy back on the bed and he gets onto shaky legs and pulls off the condom as he pads over to the bathroom. After rummaging through his medicine cabinet, he comes back with two pills and a glass of water. "Drink, okay? And I'll call someone if I have to."

It's some kind of cruel cosmic joke, or something. But Tommy takes the Benadryl and lies back on the bed, an arm over his eyes, and tries not to think about it. Hah, yeah right.

But after about ten minutes, the itch starts to fade off, and he gets up on an elbow to look at Adam. And that's when Tommy realizes he's dopey, too, from a flight and an empty stomach, from coming so many times that he aches nearly from hips to knees. The Benadryl's going to knock him out, all right. "Sorry," he says again, softer, and there's a little bit of clarity in his eyes. "I just... I don't know what happened."

"Shhh, sleep." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Adam combs his fingers through Tommy's hair. "No freaking out, no worries, okay?" Even though he's naked and covered in come, he smiles at his friend. "Just feel better."

It's not necessarily freaking out at what _they_ did, because that was pretty much nothing short of _awesome_, but it's how Tommy felt from the plane until now that's got him freaked out. But he looks down at the part of himself that seems to have gotten a mind of its own, and hey, it looks like it's asleep, or close to it. "I feel better," he answers, hoping it's the truth. Oh god, he hopes so fucking _bad_ that it's the truth. "I don't want you to be freaked out either, okay? Please?"

"When have I ever freaked out?" Adam answers, smiling. "I don't freak out, baby. Sleep, okay? I'm going to order Thai and you'll have food when you wake up." And he bends down to kiss Tommy's forehead. "And you can take a bath." His smile grows bigger as he says, "and go back to being straight."

"Don't think I can, now." It's with a weak smile and a weaker laugh, and he shoves his arms beneath the pillow under his head. Fuck, he's exhausted as it is, and the Benadryl makes it impossible to keep his eyes open. Tommy's asleep before Adam even gets to the door, finally relaxed.

Almost three hours later, Adam can hear Tommy come down the stairs, bare except for his shorts. "Where's that Thai you were talking about?" Fuck, he's so _embarrassed,_ because now he feels just fine. Well, as fine as he can, when pulling on his shorts had happened in winces and grimaces. God, his dick's going to sting in the shower, later.

"In the kitchen," Adam says, looking up from his cell phone with a grin. He's showered and eaten and had a glass of wine. "How're you feeling? You look way better. I was just looking at Rox's pictures. You can look when you've gotten food."

"I feel like an idiot. I have _no idea_ what happened to me. And my ass hurts and my dick hurts, but." One shoulder goes up and down, and Tommy's half-smiling. Adam was there, he saw what happened. He goes into the kitchen and heaps up a plate of Thai food, sitting beside Adam on the couch. Close. Because you don't exactly go riding someone like a fucking pogo stick and then pretend it didn't happen, okay? That is not cool in the slightest.

Nope, not cool. In fact, Adam lopes an arm around Tommy's shoulders and tugs him closer, flashing his iPhone screen at him. "Look at this one of you. You're so cute and sunburned and earnest. Wasn't that the best weekend ever? It's probably too soon to go back, huh?"

"_So_ much fun. And I'm still kinda sunburned, for the record. My nose is going to peel like a motherfucker." Under the tuck of Adam's arm, Tommy scarfs down the Thai, because his appetite is _insane._ Must have been all that hard work, ha-ha. "Never too soon to go back, by the way. I could totally live in pool bars, I think." There's something else, though, that Tommy maybe doesn't want to go back on. "Did you want to do that with me? Or were you just doing it 'cause... you know. 'cause I asked for it?"

"What?" At that, Adam puts his phone aside and looks over to Tommy. "You mean what we did earlier? I ... well, you were begging and ... and I didn't want you to - I mean, you seemed to be _suffering_. But ... um, I mean, it isn't like I'd never thought about it at all."

That earns Adam an elbow to the ribs. "So I was a pity fuck? Thanks, you asshole." Tommy gets off the couch to take his plate into the kitchen, coming back with the bottle of wine to refill Adam's glass, and a beer for himself. "Thanks, by the way. For helping." Adam's wine is topped up, and Tommy plants a kiss on Adam's cheek before sitting down beside him again. "What've you got On Demand? I haven't watched American TV in like, four days, and I'm in withdrawal."

"No horror movies!" Adam says, reaching over for the remote. "I don't get how you can watch those at all. Disgusting." Tommy gets another friendly snuggle and Adam says, "no problem." Ah, look! Prick up your Ears! It make Adam snicker. This is Adam's equivalent of a horror movie. Gary Oldman as a gay man. Suck it up, Tommy. This what they're watching.

"Fail!" Tommy announces, stretching out on the couch, feet on Adam's lap. But it's Adam's place and his TV, his beer and his Thai food, so Tommy's gotta give, somewhere. "Next time you're at my place, we're watching Nazi Zombies." With that declaration made, Tommy chills back, an arm under his head, beer resting on his stomach, and closes his eyes. The Benadryl isn't quite done with him yet; either that, or he can doze off knowing that things aren't totally fucked up between him and Adam. Because Adam's awesome.

(And amazing in bed, but shhhh, don't tell anyone, okay?)


End file.
